Maybe this Time
by IronIsraeliButterfly
Summary: Ziva travels to Los Angeles to aid the branch of NCIS there at Hetty's request. The case involves everything Ziva had hoped to leave behind and she must decide if she should run from her past or embrace it and what's in store for her.
1. Maybe this Time I'll Be Lucky

**Title: **Maybe This Time

**Author: **IronIsraeliButterfly

**Chapter Title: **Maybe This Time I'll Be Lucky

_I promised this to some of you and so here it is. It's based off the song "Maybe This Time" from the musical Cabaret._

"So how's the case going, Agent Callen?" Director Vance asked, lacing his fingers together. "I've taken the liberty to sending one of the agents from the home office to help you out."

"Who, Director? We're managing just fine."

"Agent David is more qualified than any person in that office to run this investigation. I am sending her to you. You will be briefing her when she arrives, and then you and her will be working _side by side_ as _partners_."

Callen resented that Director Vance was sending someone in from the home office to take over an investigation. All the talk of them working side by side as equals was crap; Agent David's every word was going to be adhered too. He had not met Agent David, but he was still aware of her. He was even a bit fascinated by her – she was a fabled assassin with legendary beauty and a photographic memory who, with one look could make a grown man cry. Kensi was a good undercover agent, that was true, but there was a mystique about the Israeli that surrounded her that Callen was so intrigued by.

He was a man of many secrets, that was true, and unfortunately, he was not privy to most of those secrets. Agent David, on the other hand, guarded her life religiously, away from the curious eyes of her co-workers. Of the Washington Major Case Response Team, (MCRT), Callen had only met two of the agents when they were investigating what turned out later to be Agent David's boyfriend, who was later shot by another team member. Callen had been read into the situation as he lay in a hospital bed after being ripped apart by two pounds of lead from a team of Russian assassins, and he wondered how a team could function at all as a team after such an incident. He thanked a God he was still unsure about for never having that situation come upon him, even if he was always a hairbreadth's away from shooting Deeks.

"Mr Callen?" Hetty bobbed over to him, clutching a single piece of paper. "This is Agent David, whom you will be picking up from the airport. You are to pretend that you know her."

He studied the photos of the woman he had heard so much about but had never heard – a profile of her, her photo from her personnel file. Kensi looked over his shoulder.

"She looks like she's never picked up a gun in her life," Kensi snorted derisively. She seemed to dislike the fact that an agent from the _home office_ was coming to lead an investigation.

"And yet she is one of the most skilled agents in the United States alive today," Hetty said, taking a look at a book sitting on Sam's desk. "Mr Hanna, I had no idea you enjoyed Faulkner. And Ms Blye, if she went into the private sector as an assassin, she would be making millions for every bullet."

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Deeks said, rounding the desk, "she's the daughter of the director of Mossad who was a brilliant and not to mention, seriously hot, assassin who switched sides to become an NCIS agent."

"Easy, Deeks," Kensi warned him, "she's way out of your league."

"Special Agent McGee sent the itinerary to your Smartphone. Check in when you get her." Callen nodded.

"Maybe I should go with him?" Deeks asked, looking slightly like a dog who was sniffing the air hopefully for a treat. "Come on, she's like a real life Mrs Smith, just so much hotter than Angelina Jolie."

"Like I said, Deeks," Kensi leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on the desk (Hetty coughed disapprovingly) "she's _way_ out of your league."

The Los Angeles airport is a mass of metal and cement, in varying tones of grey. It does not reflect the beauty of the city or the wealth of possibilities that are available in the city. In the city of palm trees, beaches, and breezes, all three are absent from the airport. One would think that the city would want the airport to be beautiful, as a first entryway to the city, especially as one as famous as Los Angeles. Callen drove around impatiently, waiting for the Israeli to show her face. As he pulled once again, he saw her, standing next to the curb, looking prim and gorgeous next to the haggard and rumpled travellers. She looked like she had just stepped out of the salon as opposed to being stuck on a cross-country flight for five hours plus.

He pulled the car up to the curb. Her face lit up when she saw him (she was a good actress, he noted, which would help out later) and she hugged him while he pecked her on the cheek. "Amanda!" he exclaimed. He took her bag and slung it over his shoulder and tugged one of her suitcases out of her hand, leaving her the other suitcase. "You always pack this light, Amanda?" he asked, as he rolled into the car. He tossed both of the suitcases into his trunk, crossed to the door, and held it open.

"Always the gentleman," she laughed.

He smiled and crossed to the other side of the car. As he pulled out of the airport, he turned to her.

"So, Agent David, good acting."

"First of all, call me Ziva." She said, opening her bag and extracting a cell phone. "Second of all, the credit goes to you. I have to call Gibbs, tell him I'm safe. He worries terribly about me since I got rescued from Somalia."

She dialled the phone and her face lit up the minute she heard the curt voice at the end of the phone. "Yes, yes, I'll stay safe. I won't talk to strangers and I'll check in every three hours. I promise. I'll eat. Yes, he's right next to me. Yes, he's driving, so I don't kill myself or anyone else. Mm-hm. Send my regards to everyone."

She flipped the phone shut. "Sounds like he worries about you."

"As I said, ever since he rescued from Somalia, he's been really worried about me. And no, we are not in a relationship," she answered to his inquiring glance. But he makes me run every guy I date by him."

"Has he struck anyone out of the line-up?"

"Two of the attorneys, doesn't trust them at all, but he told me any JAG guy was okay."

"He trusts JAG guys?" he asked incredulously.

"Only if they belong to the Department of the Navy."

Callen laughed. "I thought he had a rule against dating co-workers."

"I doubt the entire Department counts," Ziva laughed. "I do like my men in uniform. Anyway, can you tell me a bit about this case? Vance told me practically nothing."

"We're tracking a terrorist cell in LA that could possibly be connected to Hamas or Al-Qaeda."

"I don't understand why Vance needs me here. You all are very qualified. That's why you're in the CIA of NCIS."

"Don't say it that way, every time I think of the CIA I think of the slimy one-eyed teabag," Callen growled as he executed a neat right turn.

"Trent Kort?" Ziva laughed. "He's confined to a desk now."

"Good."

"Don't underestimate the paper pushers and those who sit behind the computers." Ziva warned him. He smiled at her, a real, full blown smile, a rarity for those who knew G. Callen. She was confident in who she was and yet didn't deride the work of others, realizing that every single one created a successful operation. That was a goal of NCIS, to synthesise every part of a team to create a very successful investigation. In undercover work, that was the most important goal – working together. He realized then she would be a great asset to the team even if it was only going to be until the end of the case.

They rounded several more corners and drove a couple more blocks until they pulled up in front of the NCIS Los Angeles headquarters. "It's beautiful here," Ziva commented. "Reminds me of Israel. Have you ever been there?"

Callen nodded. "Once, but just in port." He had been there for an undercover mission years before, right when he had first joined NCIS, posing as a sailor on a float in the Mediterranean.

"Haifa?" Ziva asked, her eyes lighting up. "I used to spend my summers in Haifa."

"Did you break your weapon with you?" he asked, opening the door, exiting into the cool Los Angeles breeze.

"All three of them, and my knife," Ziva responded easily, as if she was talking about chocolate bars or CDs, following him into the office. "Should I just leave my stuff in your car?"

"Yeah, we didn't make your hotel reservations yet, I'll drive you there."

"Thanks," Ziva smiled. He smiled again. She wasn't looking for any other meanings to what he said. Most women he knew always were looking for double meanings, sexual innuendo that could possibly pepper his speech. It was refreshing.

After so many years of not knowing where he stood, he could use the refresher.

"So, Ziva, this is Sam Hanna," Callen introduced them, "Kensi Blye, Nell Jones, our intel analyst, Eric Biel, our techie, Dr Nate Goetz, our operational psychologist, and our operations manager, Hetty Lang." There was a slight cough from Deeks, and Callen turned to him. "Oh, and Marty Deeks, our LAPD liaison officer."

"I was a liaison officer for four years," Ziva smiled kindly at Deeks, who looked slightly mollified for the "oversight," after she gave him a friendly wink.

"Let us escort Miss David up to Ops to review the evidence," Hetty said, watching the newcomer carefully. There was more than one reason she wanted the Israeli in LA. No one could deny that Hetty was a manipulative person, but she took care of her own.


	2. Maybe This Time Love Won't Hurry Away

**Title: **Maybe This Time

**Author: **IronIsraeliButterfly

**Chapter Title: **Maybe This Time Love Won't Hurry Away

**A/N: **Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! Keep them coming because I _crave _them. (I had no idea so many people liked Cabaret.) And no, for that _one _who pm'ed me, Hetty is not working for Al Qaeda! (Just want to clear that up so there's _no _misconceptions.)

"Petty Officer Second Class Jimmy Coates was murdered when he went to go buy an engagement ring for his girlfriend who he was planning to propose to the next day. He bought it at the Tiffany and Co. in the mall near his house." Kensi said, bringing up the picture on the screen.

"Isn't that a bit steep for anyone in the Navy? A ring there is a whole year's salary and upwards."

"Coates is from a very wealthy family," Deeks said, rounding the table to stand next to Ziva, "and his father looked at me and told me that when I planned on marrying Kensi that I should buy a big ring because it's a good investment." Ziva looked incredulous.

"Normally wealthy families have issues when their children enlist, I see it all the time in the office," Ziva said, citing from her expertise as a criminal investigator of six years upwards. Callen nodded.

"Ralph Coates is running for State Senator. It looks really good that his only son is in the USN. He manipulated his son into doing this." Callen said. "His girlfriend was a fourth-generation marine. The interesting thing is that Ralph's wife is from Afghanistan. Her name is Flora Coates, but she changed it from Fatma Mutadi which she changed from Saneera Zawiyeh."

"Zawiyeh? Like Ali Zawiyeh, the head of banking for Al-Qaeda?" Ziva asked, her eyes wide open.

"Her brother. Flora is Ralph's second wife – his first wife, Diane, died in a freak car accident fifteen years ago."

"Zawiyeh became the banker seventeen years ago, Flora has been in the US for sixteen years." Sam said.

"I have an idea, and it fits into something that terrorist groups do. Someone from Al-Qaeda ran over Diane, sent Flora to seduce him, a good, wealthy American. She looks foreign, but not Middle Eastern. She has a free hand with her money, sends it to her brother, and has all these rich friends and she tells them that they're donating to the poverty stricken, barefoot children who are living under the Israeli occupation. Find the people she associates with, subpoena their financial records and find where the money is going to."

Callen was impressed with her scope of knowledge and how quickly she could figure out a solution. "Good idea, Ziva. But why was Coates murdered?"

"Coates found out about his step-mother and confronted her. Flora denies it, he doesn't know what to do. Flora has a contact at the jewellery store, cause she knows that he's getting engaged soon and she knows he's going to take his father's advice. He buys the ring, leaves the store, and then the seller kills him. Was the ring there when local LEO's found him?"

"No." Deeks shook his head.

"So the ring was stolen, pawned for its value, probably between twenty-five thousand to seventy-five thousand and the money sent to Al Qaeda." Ziva leaned back on the table. "In Ralph's grief he didn't think to find the ring."

"Are you sure about this?" Callen asked watching her.

"Speculation, of course, but this follows a standard Al-Qaeda operating pattern."

"Which means we need to scavenge the store for her contact," Deeks said.

"We are _not _doing the engaged couple thing again," Kensi said adamantly. She crossed her arms and looked quite defiant. She was sick of playing Deeks's girlfriend.

"Ziva should go," Deeks suggested reasonably. "She'd probably notice the guy."

"And _you _are not going with her. No one would buy you two as a couple," Kensi stated. Ziva smiled internally. While it was clear that Kensi liked Deeks, she covered her emotions by putting him down and bringing herself higher than him. Ziva knew the feeling – she had done it with Tony for years until she realized that Tony wasn't the man for her by any means. They were so different and they wanted such different things. Now she was content with just being friends with Tony.

"I'll go with her," Callen volunteered. Kensi gave Callen a knowing glance that was too understanding for his taste.

"Why don't I go alone?" Ziva asked. "I can just say that I'm buying a pair of cufflinks or a wallet clip for my husband."

"We're taking a chance that no one's going to recognize her," Callen said.

"I _did_ kill one of the brothers," Ziva said thoughtfully. "I'll take Callen. Would you buy us a couple?" she asked Sam, who was strangely quiet.

"With G? If he's living large," Sam said.

Hetty smiled. "Tomorrow at lunch time you'll go. It's too late right now. Did you bring a dress or two, Miss David?" Hetty asked.

"Vance told me to bring my entire closet along," Ziva responded. "But do I need to wear it tomorrow to work, or can I just bring it in a bag?" Hetty nodded.

"Now everyone go home!" Hetty said, shooing them off. "Miss David, I made reservations for you at the WH Hotel. Mr Callen will drive you. Mr Callen, a word with you in my office."

Callen followed Hetty into her "office." "So, Mr Callen, what is your initial assessment of Miss David?" she asked as she leaned back in her chair, eyeing him carefully.

"We've been working on this case for a week and we got farther in twenty minutes than in the past week. We have a lead. We knew there was a cell here and we knew that somehow this murder was connected, but now it finally makes sense. Vance was smart to send her."

A curious look stole over Hetty's face.

"You asked for her," Callen stated.

"Take her out for dinner tonight, will you? Somewhere nice. She's had a long day."

"I don't date cops."

"This is not a date, Mr Callen, and you will find the only woman you're actually going to be able to see eye-to-eye with will be a law enforcement officer. And she will be the only one to understand you."

"Is there a particular 'she' you have in mind?"

"Of all the people in this office, you are the one who needs to settle down the most. You have no family to anchor you down, no past. Now you should create roots."

Callen laughed. "Have a good night, Hetty."

"You too, Mr Callen."

"Dinner?" Ziva asked as they sat down in his car. "That's really nice of you, Callen."

"Just want to know you a bit better," he said, and he was surprised to find that it was true. "After all, we_ are_ buying a ring tomorrow," a mischievous grin came across his face.

"Hetty gave me a fake ID. Do you live your life with fake names? No one knows you're Callen?'

"I know I'm Callen, and the people who need to know I'm Callen know it."

"Well, I'm Jen Winston."

"Sean Cambor."

"Jen and Sean," Ziva said, as if tasting for the first time.

"Sean and Jen," Callen corrected her with a smile.

"You, Mr G Callen, are a chauvinist!"

"So tell me, Ziva, do you have any siblings?" he asked her, going for a neutral topic.

"I did. Tali was my sister, she died when she was sixteen in a terrorist attack, and Ari... well, he went rogue and... I shot him when he was about to kill Gibbs."

He paused before answering. "I don't know what to say."

She smiled sadly. "The hardest part is when people give me answers like they're in a better world, it was their time to go. I doubt Ari is in a better world and how could Tali's time to go be when she was sixteen? Somebody once told me that because I shoot little children, that's why my sister died. But I've never shot a child in my life and I can't think of anyone that did that. We don't use little kids as target practice. Oh... I'm sorry, I said too much."

"No, you didn't. You're fine. Sam gets like this also," Callen said. "Sorry for bringing up the topic."

"Don't be sorry," she reassured him. "It was a typical question. I wish I could ask you the question... but I know that you don't know. In some ways its better. You get to be your own person. No one's judging you for external factors."

"I never thought about it like that," Callen mused. "I had a sister, but I didn't know and then when I found out about it she was dead. It frustrates me because I found out secrets that are so encrypted within security networks and yet I can't find something as simple as my first name. Do you know how infuriating it is to be referred to as 'G'? What if you went around your entire life as Z?"

Ziva chuckled. "Then I would be David, and that's a boy's name. But let's find you a name."

He smiled. "You wouldn't be the first to try."

"Maybe Callen is your first name. Like they decided a first name and it was, oh gee, Callen!"

Callen burst out laughing as he pulled up at a parking lot. "So the person who named you was French and she was like, zee David, she is quite bu—tiful, zees is trrrrue." Ziva joined in on his laughter.

"I figured you've been confined to a chair pretty much all day, we could grab dinner on the beach."

"That was really nice of you."

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Something about the beach had worked its magic on Callen, who found magic to be quite cliché. The people who lived magical lives were cliché. The problem he had with women is that he didn't want to lie with them but he couldn't tell them the truth. It is impossible to sustain a relationship with someone when one person is not completely truthful. Ziva made no assumptions and he could tell her the truth, which felt redeeming. She had a musical laugh that sounded every time the water lapped at their feet. She was full of life and vibrancy, something that Callen was drawn to. He felt himself being pulled in to her joy. She didn't bemoan her fate, which was much sadder than many others. She went on.

As the night progressed, he learned more and more about the remarkable woman to his left. She had a terrible sweet tooth with a special liking for Snickers chocolate bars and she ran six miles every morning. She loved the _Sound of Music_ and Rocky Horror. She loved the arts. She had wanted to be a ballerina or a Broadway actress when she was younger or a football player. But sometimes life... surprises you. Callen wasn't the type of person who just did things to do them, he didn't fall in love quickly, and he wasn't the type to start committing when his life was an earthquake.

Yet sometimes life... surprises you.

And as the sky lightened, he realized what he had been missing all these years: someone who could accept him even though there were more blanks than facts and a lifestyle of a kamikaze pilot. But she accepted him, no questions asked. And he was in wonder. He was in love. He wanted her. He craved her. He just wondered if the feelings were mutual.

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"So, G, how'd the date go?" Sam asked as he turned the key in his car.

"What date?" Callen asked, pretending to be innocent.

"I heard Ziva talkin' to Kensi that you took her out to eat yesterday night before you dropped her off at the hotel. I gotta tell you, G, she's exactly like you – but in a good way, ya know. You'd be perfect for each other." Callen was hearing exactly what he wanted to hear, but he wasn't going to let on, so he just grunted. "Oh, c'mon, you know exactly what I'm saying. So what if she's a cop. She's a hell of a cop."

"And she lives in Washington." Callen argued obstinately.

"And she's here now. C'mon, G, ya only get like this when you know I'm right."

Callen sighed. "We're in the middle of a case involving terrorism, and I'm supposed to start dating a girl-"

"Who's involved in the case and you know, there's a bunch of married agents who go home every night while they're working on a case. "

"So I'm supposed to marry her?" Callen asked incredulously.

"G, I'm going to tell ya something, and ya better listen. You need to settle down and Ziva might be that girl to settle down with. You're the person most on the team who needs somebody to be there for you, who needs something permanent."

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Ziva and Callen walked into the office after coming back from Tiffany, looking exhausted. She was wearing a dress and heels, and Callen was wearing a suit. They looked like they were the expensive couple they had posed as. "Trouble in paradise?" Deeks questioned as Ziva slipped off her heels and massaged her heels. Callen held the back of her chair as he looked wearily at the team.

"There was a shift change two days ago and the people who were on shift when Jimmy was

shot aren't there anymore and three in the system got laid off." Callen said, loosening his tie.

"So basically you got nothing?" Sam asked, his eyes resting on Callen's hands, which were once again on the back of her chair.

"Except for the fact that Ziva likes princess-cut diamonds and the bigger the better. How would Flora's contact know exactly which store he's going to buy the diamond at, which branch, and what time?" Callen asked. "I think she set a tail on her stepson that exact day."

"Makes sense," Kensi agreed. "Nice dress, Ziva." Ziva nodded her head but didn't say anything. She seemed preoccupied. She slipped on her regular shoes that she had come into the office with and walked over to Hetty's "office."

"Hello, Miss David, care to join me for a glass of tea?" Hetty asked. Ziva nodded and sat down.

"Callen said that you have intel on everything," Ziva said abruptly. "I need information."

"What sort of information?" Hetty asked, pouring the fragrant brew into one of the floral-patterned tea cups.

"My mother left my father when I was fourteen because she couldn't take it anymore. She wanted my father to be home and he was way too committed to work. My mother moved to America where she took up a post advising the CIA on the Middle East. When I was twenty-one, I got a call from my mother's supervising officer that she had been shot. End of the story. They investigated and said the information was classified. Hetty, you know. I know you know. Tell me, why did my mother die?"

"Your mother got involved with her supervising officer. After a while though, she realized that Eli was not the man she had painted in her mind to be. They had never gotten divorced, you know. Your mother decided to go back to Israel, to go back to your father. However, her supervisor went into a jealous rage and shot her the night before she went back, for if she could not be his, then she would be no one else's. No one pressed charges because this was the deputy director of the CIA, who is now the director."

Ziva sat, staring at Hetty, in shock. She felt betrayed. In Israel no one would have ever gotten away with such a thing. The night before she could have had her mother back was the night she was killed. "I-I need to go for a walk," Ziva muttered and walked out of the office, still wearing the dress she had worn to her undercover job this afternoon. Callen watched her leave and then decided to act upon an impulse. He decided to walk after her.

"Ziva!" he called out as he watched her slim figure walking slowly, as if in a daze.

She turned around, and he could see tear tracks etched into her beautiful face. She waited and he came to her.

"What happened?" he asked her, trying to keep the urgent note out of his voice, trying to sound soothing. "Ziva, what happened?"

She shook her head mutely.

"Let's take a walk. On the beach. You can tell me about it."

Ziva shook her head again. "Why do you want to know, G?" she asked him, and a weird surge of pleasure caroused through his veins hearing her say his first name.

"Because... I want to be there for you," he said quietly. "Come on, Ziva, please don't cry in the middle of the street.

"Everyone who is 'there for me' ends up dead," Ziva said. "So don't try."

"I had two pounds of lead pumped into me by a group of assassins. I think I'll manage."

Ziva looked at him with a look of wonderment. "I've used one bullet and they ended up dead. How did you get two pounds in you and survive? Are you some type of superhuman?"

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He was disgusted with the CIA. He had left them years before, but now he felt that the group should be abolished. As he cradled Ziva in his arms as they watched the waterline dance around their feet, he was filled with the most conflicting of emotions: intense rage at the Agency and a surge of pleasure that she allowed him to hold her like this.

After thirty minutes of silence, Callen was beginning to get restless. "Let's go back to the office. I'll take you out to dinner tonight. Real dinner."

She smiled, a lit speck of light coming back to her eyes. "Deeks already asked me. But I guess something can be arranged."


	3. Everybody Loves a Winner

**Title: **Maybe This Time

**Author: **IronIsraeliButterfly

**Chapter Title: **Everybody Loves a Winner

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, **Katie** and **ZC**. Here's the next chapter, and I want at least five reviews! (Please) Sorry if I'm not that completely PC in this chapter.

"I have an idea," Ziva said as she strode into the office, looking at the team. "Remember how we said that it's probably a group of women? Well, Eric said that there's a house for sale there. What if we bought the house and laid low for a little while. It's a bit expensive, but it'll pay off. I'm sure."

"You and Callen should play the happy couple," Sam said as he perused a magazine.

"I was thinking about me and Kensi." Ziva said, sitting down. "We'll be a lesbian couple. We can do it better than all of you." She wore a cocky grin as she high fived Kensi, who looked pleased.

"You need someone to back you two up," Sam looked concerned at the new development.

"That's right, NCIS women kick serious ass," Nell said. Everyone looked at the typically mild-mannered intel analyst. "No, seriously. All you men put us down because we're supposed to be the lesser sex, but any of these women could kick your asses anytime, in our sleep. You've seen it – Kensi basically killed Sam with that buzz-knife and she can get info in like thirty seconds, forty tops, and Hetty can make the most hardened Marine cry like a baby. And Ziva – she cracked this case right in half. So I'm sick of men pushing around us like we're props or we're toys. Kensi doesn't get that info cause she's a woman – she gets it because she's damn good. We had a female director for a couple years and our ship sailed smoothly on a whirlpool."

All the men stared at the diminutive redhead who now seemed to tower over all of them. "And Sam, Ziva could pin you in a second and look great doing it." Nell finished off. "Okay, I said it. I'm pissed off. I think that Kensi and Ziva would be best off doing this."

"Can you two act like lesbians?" Callen asked, trying to slip right back into the role of team leader as easily as he had slipped into the role of Ziva's comforter.

"Lesbians are normal people, Callen." Kensi rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't be able to pick a lesbian out of three women."

"Is that a reflection on me?" Callen asked, slightly affronted that Kensi had insulted his detecting skills. After all, that was what his work and the minute that sense was obstructed, he was out of business. It made his blood go slightly cold.

"No, just the media portrays the gay community as very obviously gay. I wouldn't be able to tell. I mean maybe a little bit. But not to make a positive identification." Ziva sighed. "Trust me, I work with the king of pop-culture, and no, it isn't Michael Jackson's fan of eternity. He thinks we can solve everything using a movie reference. Anyway, we'll just take a look around the place tomorrow, maybe knock on some doors to get what we need to know, find about the neighbourhood."

Kensi nodded. "It's in Hancock Park, so we need to fabricate IDs for us that we're very well connected with people that are important, but on the side that would aid terrorist unwittingly. People who can be duped easily."

"Tax returns that we're big contributors to aiding humanitarian issues all over the world. I grew up in Lebanon or in Syria, take your pick, and I went to an Ivy League school and majored in liberal arts and now I do something interesting. Kensi went to the same college as I did. She majored in finance and she consults for several non-profit agencies and NGOs." Ziva walked around the table, tallying the things they needed to do off her fingers.

"Ziva, if you're Muslim – for this assignment of course – then why would you be a lesbian? Isn't it against shariah law?"

"It's also against Jewish and Christian law, but there's a bunch of people who belong to one of the big three of religions and they identify themselves as part of the LGBT community and they still observe the basic tenets of their religion." Sam stated as he looked down at the table, rearranging some photos as if he was rearranging his thoughts. "We're taking a big risk sending Ziva in because she was at the jewellery store and there was possibly an associate there."

"It's a risk that we're going to have to take," Hetty said as she strolled into the work area, leaning against the ironwork that partitioned the workspace from the rest of the building. "Miss Jones is right – Kensi and Ziva are the perfect set-up for this to work. Their cover needs to go deep, so Mr Beale and Miss Jones are going to kiss their evening goodbye. Al-Qaeda has unlimited resources and they'll be able to dig very deeply into our databases."

Nell and Eric nodded, and started practically attacking the computers. Ziva bit back a small smile as she was reminded of McGee and Abby when they got excited about a lead. She felt a sudden homesickness that left as quickly as it came. She watched their fingers fly over their individual keyboards, creating false identities for Ziva and Kensi.

"I'll place a call to the realtor right now that my partner and I would like to see the house tomorrow at around two in the afternoon." Kensi said as she took the post-it with the phone number from Eric. Ziva nodded.

"Wardrobe, Miss David and Miss Blye. Miss Blye, you need to wear something feminine but sensible, perhaps a pantsuit. Miss David, you are going to wear something a little risky. Oh, and Miss David, the ring you purchased this morning – where is it?" Ziva dug in her bag and produced the robin's egg blue box and placed it in Hetty's hand.

"Ah, princess cut, D class, a little over four carats with diamonds along the band. Good choice, Miss David. Expensive choice. We will put it in the accessories collection for the wardrobe. And possibly, Miss David, when you get engaged, NCIS will give you a seventy-five thousand dollar gift with my recommendation. Mr Callen, the receipt?"

Callen handed her the slip of paper.

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"So are we still on for dinner?" Callen asked as they entered his car.

"Sure we are, but I need to shower and change."

"Is an hour enough?" he asked her as he started the engine.

"Are you going to change?" she asked as she fished in her bag for cell phone.

"I'm taking a beautiful woman out for dinner, so of course I'll change." Ziva laughed as she started dialling.

"Yeah, hi, Gibbs. It's me. We're making some progress. I feel like I'm back in my Mossad days doing undercover work. I'm just doing what I was trained to do. Everything okay? Any leads? Callen's taking me out for dinner. Really? I bet Tony is upset. Yes, I'll call you first thing in the morning. Missing all of you. Send my love to everyone."

"Sounds like they miss you over there." Callen remarked.

"We're like a family. Dysfunctional at times, but a family. They're investigating a disappearance of a marine and Tony – Special Agent DiNozzo, he keeps trying to get the marine's sister who used to be a model to go on a date with him but she asked McGee to go on a date with her. DiNozzo feels very insulted. He puts Casanova to a new light."

"So does Deeks. Except his advances aren't typically returned. So where do you want to eat?" he asked.

"Surprise me. I haven't been in LA since... since Jenny was killed."

"Well, we're very lucky that one of my favourite aliases is very wealthy. I can get into every restaurant and spa with a flash of my card."

"You must feel very important," Ziva teased him.

"I feel very important that _you _are coming to dinner with me."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I'm sure that it will get me _somewhere_,"

"Now you're beginning to sound like Tony."

Callen pulled up in front of the hotel. "You have one hour," he warned her with a smile.

"I will see you then."

"One hour."

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She was standing in the lobby, fiddling with her clutch in her hand. Something inside her was sniffing the air eagerly as if there was a change that could be smelled. She wanted to embrace that change, take it with open arms, as if it was a friend she had not seen in a long time. Ziva typically did not like change – it bothered her that there was more than she could control. But this seemed like a change for the better. She had felt this way before certain crucial junctures, such as joining the army, joining Mossad, becoming the liaison officer for NCIS, becoming an NCIS Special Agent, becoming an American citizen. Now, something in her was ready for another change.

Callen stepped into the lobby and looked around for Ziva. He had promised the valet that he would just be a couple minutes. He scanned and then he saw her, in the far side of the lobby, looking even more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

"Ziva," he breathed as he crept up from behind her. Ziva turned around and looked at him.

"You're wearing a suit," she commented, running her hand along the lapels. "It looks nice."

"You look... beautiful."


End file.
